Nurse Mulder
by OnlyTheInevitable
Summary: When Scully gets injusred on a case, she tries her best to hide it from Mulder, but he inevitably finds out and it turns out Scully needs more TLC than she initially assumed. MSR.


**Written for Siobhan for the 2020 X-Files Fluff Exchange! Their prompt was for Scully to get injured on a case and try to hide it from Mulder, but he inevitably finds out.**

They were so close to solving this case.

Kersh had sent them out to Madison, Wisconsin to assist the VCU with tracking down a serial killer targeting college students. More accurately, he tasked Mulder with helping the VCU to profile the killer, and Mulder insisted he needed Scully to come along with him and conduct autopsies on the prior victims, regardless of the fact that Madison County had plenty of capable coroners.

She had chided him last week for never taking Kersh's assignments seriously, and it was evident he hadn't taken _her_ seriously until they landed and sat in on the briefing. What he'd assumed would be a walk in the park and inevitably an opportunity for them to shoot the breeze turned out to be a desperate manhunt for a missing fifteen-year-old and her kidnappers. Mulder's disposition shifted dramatically from playful and relaxed to tense and focused as the severity of the situation made itself known.

She'd been with Mulder long enough to know she was as much use to him while he was in profiler mode as he was to her while she was trying to conduct an autopsy. As a result, she'd barely seen him at all in the few days they'd been there, because while he was on the team searching for the girl and the main perpetrator, she was 'made useful' by being assigned to work with the team looking for the other perp.

"Alright everyone, get in position," the harsh voice of the local sheriff crackled over the walkie talkie in her hand.

The man Scully's team was pursuing was named Aaron Coleman, age 45. He was the one in charge of finding vulnerable young girls to abduct, most recently Natasha DuVall, who he'd subsequently sell to his partner - the man Mulder's team was currently apprehending. After days of mulling over evidence, they were certain they'd tracked him down to a shed he'd been hiding out in. The only problem was that they were pretty certain he was armed and he wouldn't be coming out easily.

The Sheriff looked around at the seven cops and Scully before nodding firmly. "Aaron Coleman. This is the Madison County Police Department. Please come out with your hands up," he yelled towards the lone shed.

The door opened and a small head with beady, dark eyes popped out. "What do yous want?" he yelled back.

"Sir, you're under arrest for the human trafficking and selling of minors," the sheriff explained.

Coleman scanned the yard tentatively, as if measuring his chances by sizing everyone up. "I ain't trafficked or sold no minors," he spat, quite literally hocking spit to the back of his throat before aiming at the sheriff.

It only served to heighten the tension of the situation and the sheriff stiffened, sticking his chest out angrily. "It's not a suggestion, Coleman. Come out or we will be required to use force."

"You come towards me an' I'll blow your fuckin' heads off," he growled.

"Sir, I'll give you till the count of three to come out of the shed," the Sheriff warned.

"One." The door started slowly opening to reveal a sickly looking man who clearly hadn't bathed in a while.

"Two." Upon stepping out, Coleman clearly had a gun in his hand, the barrel raised to the sky.

The Sheriff stopped counting, seeing as the man appeared to be cooperating. But then the new, rookie cop, standing directly behind Scully, let out a powerful sneeze with a dramatic shout. The sound startled everyone, including Coleman who aimed at the source of the noise.

The last thing she remembered were two shots ringing out and suddenly noting that the clouds in the sky looked dull and ominous.

* * *

"That was amazing, Agent Mulder," Officer Spratt beamed from the driver's seat.

Ever since finding Natasha and Nick Durbin, the cops on his team wouldn't stop showering him with praise. He was appreciative; unironic compliments weren't something he was used to being given, but after being so mentally invested for the last 75 hours, he just wanted to get some rest.

"How did you know he would do that?" another officer asked from the back seat.

Mulder shrugged lightly before saying, "He's nervous by nature. It makes sense he wouldn't feel comfortable staying in one place for too long when he knew the police were on his tail." His tone was clinical to the point of sounding indifferent, but that didn't matter to the surrounding officers who just made sounds of approval and appreciation.

He leaned his head heavily on the cool window and he watched as the raindrops fought the pull of the wind. Several little droplets moved to the right slowly, as if racing, before inevitably catching onto a surrounding droplet, moving faster and quicker as they grew until the window became a series of interlocking veins. He felt lulled by the comforting repetition and his eyes began to droop.

"This is Sheriff Finley. Does the recovery team copy?" a voice sounded from the previously neglected radio.

"Officer Spratt here, Sheriff. Did you guys get a hold of Coleman?" he asked eagerly.

Mulder listened with distant, sleepy interest, not wanting to sit back up and have the officers continue asking him questions about his profile. "Not without a fight," the older man sighed.

"Is everyone okay?"

"One of the officers was shot twice, but the vest saved them," he replied wearily.

His eyes cracked open to look at the wet pavement passing by at that. He knew Scully was working alongside that team but surely she wouldn't have been asked to go out in the field. They had plenty of cops to do the grunt work, she was just there to interpret his profile to them and lend a hand doing investigative work.

"You should have seen the quick thinking Agent Mulder did earlier," Officer Spratt started up again eagerly, despite having reported the success of the recovery mission earlier.

The other cops in the car started getting riled up again and Mulder clamped his eyes shut and feigned some snores until they became real.

* * *

"You're awfully lucky, Agent Scully," her doctor replied as she was buttoning her shirt back up. "At your size, it's a miracle your ribs are just bruised and not worse."

Scully felt like she'd been hit by a freight train. She'd been shot with a vest on before, and while that hurt, having two points of contact so close on her body made her entire side feel like it was a giant hematoma. "I see your point, but I'm not sure lucky is the word I'd choose," Scully replied, wincing from the strain of moving.

The doctor was too busy filling out Scully's chart to reply, only looking up a few moments later to say, "Since you were so out of it earlier and from what the other cops saw, it's safe to say you have a concussion. I'd normally fight harder for you to stay overnight, but seeing as you're a medical doctor I trust that you'll take care of yourself just fine."

"Thank you," Scully replied gratefully.

"Do you have someone to take you home?" she asked.

Scully grimaced slightly and nodded. If the amount of fussing over her at check-in was to be any indication, she had a whirlwind waiting for her in the other room. "Yeah," she nodded.

She left shortly thereafter and made her way into the waiting room, looking around for the lanky, somber figure that she'd left only thirty minutes ago. She found him and had to keep herself from rolling her eyes at his watery, hazel stare.

The young agent stood up immediately and ran over to her. "Agent Scully, I am _so_ sorry," he repeated for the thousandth time.

She walked past him and motioned for him to follow, which he did like a puppy. "Officer Thompson, some sneezes are impossible to suppress. I assure you I bear no grudge. The perp was caught. No one was killed," she rambled half heartedly, trying her best not to walk differently because of her injury.

"But I-" he started again.

She whipped around on her heel and gave him a pointed look. "Do you want to do something to make me feel better?" He nodded desperately and she went on with, "Then stop apologizing."

She turned back around and made it to the door when she heard him say, "I heard Agent Mulder and the others are on their way back. I could let him know-"

Her hand stilled on the wood and she turned back to face him. "Actually, I know what you can do for me."

"Radio Agent Mulder an-" he was fumbling in his jacket to find his phone and pull it out, but she reached out and grabbed his wrist firmly.

"No. You can help me make sure Agent Mulder does not find out I was shot," she stated slowly in a low tone, looking him straight in the eyes to make sure he heard every word.

"What?" he asked, his face scrunching up in confusion.

She let out a low breath. "He deserves to celebrate this win, not focus on me. Besides, I think it's in your best interest he doesn't find out either," she answered pointedly, raising her eyebrows and hoping he caught her drift.

He nodded before his face scrunched up in guilt. She rolled her eyes and kept walking, predicting what was inevitably coming. "I'm so sorry."

* * *

The harsh crackle of the radio woke Mulder up with a jolt as he looked around to get his bearings. "Officer Spratt, do you copy?" a voice called out.

"Copy. Is this Officer Thompson?" he replied, turning up the volume.

"Yeah, uh…" then there was a pause followed by some whispering. Mulder sat up straighter as he swore he heard Scully's voice come through the speakers. It sounded like the irritated tone she used with him when she was trying to navigate his driving and he wasn't listening, and he wondered what she was trying to get Thompson to do.

"Thompson, what do you want?"

"Agent Scully wanted me to request that Agent Mulder get dropped off at the parking garage so they can head back to their lodgings. The rain is expected to freeze over with the oncoming storm and she doesn't want to risk driving in it since it's a long ways off," he explained slowly, as if reciting something from memory.

"We can send one of ours to escort them," Spratt explained, playing with a toothpick in between his teeth.

"_No," _he heard Scully's voice gently call out in a harsh whisper. Mulder's brow creased in curiosity of why she wanted to go back to the motel so quickly.

"But we need to bring Agent Mulder back so he can tell everyone about how his profile totally nabbed that guy," one of the annoyingly excitable agents beamed from the back seat.

Images of a dozen more replicas of that agent ran through his head as he imagined going back to the station and he immediately tried to act as exhausted as possible. "No, no. I'm tired. I'm sure you guys will tell it better than I can. I think I need some shut eye," he rambled, feigning a yawn.

There were a few disappointed sighs, but Agent Spratt relented and said, "You hear that, Thompson?"

"Thank you, sir. How far out are you?"

"'Bout five minutes."

For those five minutes, Mulder indulged the other officers as they asked him questions about his training and his work, but slowly their questions led to what he was doing currently and their admiration turned to bewilderment.

"Extraterrestrials?" one asked as they turned into the garage. "Like E.T?"

"Not quite," he replied, his eyes scanning the lot until he saw their old rental and Scully standing next to a tall man who seemed to be… fawning over her.

"Is that Officer Thompson?" Mulder asked, gesturing over to the man.

"Next to your woman? Yeah, he's new," Spratt replied with a shrug. Mulder balked at his usage of _your woman,_ knowing Scully would certainly have some words to say about that.

"Does he always look so… nervous?" Mulder asked.

"Yes," all four officers in the car replied simultaneously, one continuing to say, "He can't do anything right."

His line of inquiry was cut short as they pulled up next to Scully. He thanked everyone and all but jumped out of the car, promising to fax his end of the paperwork within the next day or two.

As he walked over, he saw Scully shoot daggers at the rookie and he would have felt bad for him if it weren't for the extreme, forced chivalry he was imparting on Scully. "Do you want me to take your bag? Here, let me open the door. Do you need a water for the ride?"

She held out her hand in warning before turning to Mulder, giving him a genuine Scully-smile that was stark in contrast to the grimace the other guy was being given.

"Hey, Scully," he said, practically nudging Thompson out of the way as he put his hand on her waist to lead her from the trunk to the passenger.

He saw Scully's face contort into a look of subdued pain, her jaw clenching tightly as her eyes clamped shut. But as soon as he was about to ask if she was okay, he saw Thompson had opened the car door and dinged it against a neighboring car and he realized it was irritation and not pain he'd seen.

"Hey, Mulder. Sorry to pull you from the station, I just don't want to get caught in the storm," she explained.

He bent down so only she could hear and whispered, "You'll hear no arguments from me."

He brushed past the rookie as he made his way to the driver's seat. They had to wave to their respective admirers and it wasn't until he peeled out that he felt like he could breathe again. "That guy seemed awfully fond of you," he teased.

He smiled at the little scoff she let out and glanced over at her. She was holding herself up weirdly and concern started gnawing at him. "Are you okay? Why are you sitting like that?"

She looked over at him with surprise and immediately shook her head. "Yeah, I'm fine. I was on my feet for so long the past few days that I'm really sore," she explained, rolling her head back and forth and letting it crack. "I just can't wait to get back to the motel and take it easy. I'm going to take the world's longest bath."

He laughed, not doubting her ability to do just that. Lord knew she deserved it. "Speak for yourself. I think I'm going to gorge myself with a vending machine feast and go into hibernation."

* * *

She used her toe to pull the plug from the drain and listened as the gurgling sound of the water draining filled the room. With a resigned sigh that she'd have to leave the comforting warmth of the water, she put her hands on either side of the tub's rims and started to lift herself up, only for a harsh stab of pain to flare up her side. She ungracefully fell back into the tub and the water splashed around her in strong waves.

She hadn't considered the fact that getting in was the easy part and that had been painful enough. She tried again, attempting to push her body forward so that she could lift herself up with just her legs, but the pain was even worse at that attempt.

Tears of frustrated indignation stung her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. She'd felt helpless all day and this just added insult to injury. She hadn't cried out for help while sitting in a bathtub since she was a child, and the harsh reverberation of her voice calling out for Mulder in the tiled room made her mortification feel like it was in surround sound.

She waited, but heard nothing. Her phone was in the other room, and there was simply nothing else she could do until Mulder heard her or another guest filed a noise complaint and someone came to check on her.

Clearing her throat, trying to sound less meek than she had last time, she called out, "Mulder?"

Again, nothing. But this time, goosebumps rippled over her skin as she felt the waterline fall below her belly button and another wave of embarrassment came over her. In her mortification at needing him to lift her out of the tub and inevitably being caught trying to keep her injury from him, she hadn't even taken into account her state of nudity.

She looked around and saw she'd accidentally left the only towel over on the sink when she'd wiped the counter. "You've got to be fucking kidding me," she angrily muttered in frustration

She gently bent forward and grabbed the curtain to the shower and drug it enough so that only her head was visible to the outside world. This was going to be embarrassing. There was no way around it. The only comfort she could find was in the possibility he'd be so mad at her for keeping it from him that he'd be blind to everything else - but that wasn't really a comfort at all.

"Mulder!" she called louder. She realized the only way he'd be able to hear her at this rate was if he was just idly sitting in his room without a television as background noise. She was also taking it for granted that he might be in his own bathroom, putting even more distance between them.

With another sigh of embarrassment, she filled her lungs up with air, her ribs protesting angrily, before screaming as loudly as she could: "MULDER!"

There was no moment of silence as she closed her mouth that time. As soon as her voice cut off, she could hear bounding footsteps from his room followed by the adjoining room door slamming open. "Scully?" he called out nervously.

She felt bad at the worry her shouting must have caused him, so she made her tone sweeter as she gently called out, "I'm in here." What was an attempt to ease his worry sounded like a harsh comedy bit in the tonal difference, and it didn't seem to calm him much as his footsteps were rushing to the bathroom door.

"I'm coming in," he called before bursting through the door. She watched his eyes scan the room, probably looking for her bleeding out body or an intruder before they fell to the sight of her head peeking out from the curtain. He cocked his head and walked towards her slowly, still trying to assess the situation. "Did you fall?" he asked in concern.

Attempting to use his worry to her advantage, she gently asked, "Can you promise not to get mad at me?" she asked, swallowing thickly.

"Y-yeah, are you okay?" he agreed.

"I sustained a little injury earlier today and I'm just in a bit of pain. I can't lift myself out of the tub and I need your help," she tentatively explained.

"Why didn't you tell me earlier?" he asked, looking hurt by her omission.

"I didn't want you to worry," she shrugged. "I know you've had a rough few days and I didn't want to add to it."

"Scully," he frowned. "Was that why you winced earlier when I touched you?"

Of course he noticed. It was naive of her to think anything could get past him. "I'm just sore," she shrugged. The breeze from the other room had finally permeated through the shower curtain and she shuddered as the cool air hit her naked skin.

Mulder noticed this and took a temporary hiatus from his questioning. "Let's get you out of here. We can talk after."

He grabbed the shower curtain and she tightened her grip on it. "Wait!" she cried out. Mulder looked down at her quizzically and she stammered an explanation, "I'm- could you give me the towel on the counter first?"

"Oh," he said, clearly surprised he hadn't realized the situation earlier. "Yeah, sorry," he replied. She was certain she saw his eyes dart across the curtain, as if imagining what lay behind.

He turned around and handed the towel out to her, averting his eyes away as she reached out for it. She lifted her hips to wrap it around her, and she couldn't help the whimper of pain that weakly escaped her lips as she did so. She was just happy that she was able to cover herself and that the towel was a decent enough size. "Thank you," she said, pushing the curtain open as an invitation for him to turn around.

Upon doing so, she felt his eyes roam her body looking for whatever gruesome injury he'd conjured up in his mind. "Where are you hurt?" he asked after not finding it.

"My ribs," she answered. "And I have a mild concussion," she added, not wanting to lie to him anymore.

"Tell me if I'm hurting you, okay?" he requested.

"I will," she replied softly, raising her arms out to him like a child asking to be held.

* * *

The whole room smelled acutely of Scully, but it was even stronger as he leaned over the tub. In any other situation, this would have been a fantasy come to life, but right now his guilt for not having noticed her distress earlier was at the forefront of his mind. That and how to pick her up without hurting her even more.

She was tiny relative to the tub, so he had no problems getting his arms in there with her, but as soon as he hooked one arm under her legs and the other brushed her side, she gasped and grabbed his wrist, shying away from him slightly. Her eyes shot to his and she offered a weak, pained smile. "Sorry."

"No, no. Don't be. Um-" he rambled as he tried to think of a different angle. He knew she was light and an awkward angle wouldn't make her impossible to carry, so he raised his arms higher and let his hand wrap around her shoulder blades, his hand resting a bit above where her bra band would have been. She threw one arm over his shoulders as the other reached across to clasp her hands together.

"Ready?" he asked. She nodded in response and he lifted her up with ease. She sharply inhaled a breath and he knew this was still painful for her. "Sorry," he lamented, holding her to him.

She shifted her weight a bit so she was leaning into his arms and she shook her head. "It was just the initial movement, this isn't bad," she explained with just a small hint of pain in her voice.

He gently tried to navigate out of the bathroom without error, but he accidentally bumped his shin into the toilet. He felt a flap of fabric fall over his hand and he saw the tuck job Scully had done of the towel had come loose and part of it was now hanging. He tried not to look, but as he was shuffling past the mirror, he saw the exposed expanse of her side in the mirror. And with that view, he saw an angry, deep purple bruise that covered her entire side - punctuated by two acute points on the top and bottom of her rib cage.

"_One of the officers was shot twice."_

He felt shock run through his veins like ice before his gaze turned to Scully's face, who was looking at him nervously as if she knew he'd just connected the dots. "You were shot."

It was meant to come out as a question, but came out as an angry statement. He wasn't angry at her, but at the agents who put her in that situation and himself for insisting she come with him in the first place.

"In the vest," she reassured softly as if that would lessen his shock.

He felt his jaw clench as he looked back into the mirror, walking a few steps closer so he could get a better view. He could see exactly where the bullets had impacted. Both would have inevitably hit major organs. He felt her shift slightly in his arms and it barely felt like anything. He was certain if the wind blew too hard, Scully could be knocked over, and she was shot _twice_ today.

He wasn't meaning to, but his gaze flitted to the other ends of skin that were exposed to him. He could see the side curvature of one of her breasts and the thin, delicate skin of her exposed hip bone, and the sight made his heart clench with a fierce protectiveness. Scully could have died. He could have lost her today. Mulder was well aware of the fact she could take care of herself, but having her so vulnerable in his arms right now, her little feet dangling in the air at his side while the smell of vanilla and rose wafted off of her soft skin, made him sick with the 'almost' and 'what ifs' racing through his mind.

"I'm sorry," she murmured quietly.

He turned his neck and saw her looking at him, her bare face flush from the bath and her eyes full of apprehension. If it was possible to feel more like an ass, he did right now. She was in pain and he was just making her feel worse. "I should have told you earlier."

"I don't mean to make you feel guilty," he replied, shuffling out of the bathroom and walking to the bed. "I'm just pissed that you're hurt."

He laid her down as softly as he could on the bed and tried to jostle her as little as possible, turning his eyes away respectfully for a moment so she could adjust her falling towel. "It'll heal soon enough," she answered and he could hear the shrug in her tone. "What matters is that Natasha was saved and two evil men can't hurt any more young women." Mulder nodded, knowing she was right and trying to subdue the anger he was feeling.

But she'd always said he had an issue with fixating.

He turned around and asked, "How did it happen?"

She was sitting up with her knees bent on the bed, looking at him as if she knew he wasn't going to drop it easily. "We almost had him but Officer Thompson sneezed behind me and Coleman panicked thinking they were aiming at him."

He felt a humorless laugh escape his lips as he put his hands on his hips. "You almost died today because some rookie had allergies?"

"It was an accident," she repeated slowly, as if understanding that would make it better for him.

He sighed again before catching her eyes dart around the floor presumably looking for her bag. Mulder walked over, picked it up and set it next to her. "Thank you," she smiled softly.

He watched her bare arms as she started digging around. "You said you have a concussion too?" he asked after looking at her damp, curling hair. "How did that happen?"

She paused and looked up at him. "I just fell backwards and my head smacked against something. I don't remember that part. That's just what they told me when I came to."

He gently raised his right hand up and put it on her scalp, softly threading his fingers through her hair until he found a knot at the back of her head. She let out a little hum in response to his touch as she continued digging through her bag. A bundle of clothes in the corner caught his attention and he gestured over to them. "Are those the pyjamas you're looking for?"

Without looking up she answered, "I want to find something that I don't have to move a ton in - something big and comfy. But it appears I wasn't packing for bruised ribs."

"Do you want something of mine? My clothes would probably be a dress on you. I doubt you'd even have to lift your arms to slide them into the armholes," he offered.

"That's ok-," she started before actually considering it. "Actually," she beamed, turning to him, "That would be perfect. Thank you."

He nodded, relieved to have provided some comfort to her, and made his way around the bed. "Button down or t-shirt?"

"T-shirt, I don't want to deal with buttons," she replied, easing herself off the bed slowly with a scrap of black fabric in her hand.

"Yes, ma'am," he teased with a salute before disappearing into his room.

* * *

Scully let out a relieved sigh. That had gone a lot better than expected. She could still tell he felt guilty, in that self-deprecating way that seemed to be second nature to him, but she was just glad he wasn't angry with her.

With some difficulty, she was able to slide her panties up her legs and over her hips just in time to hear, "Here's-shit. Sorry,"

She was too sore to turn around, but she laughed at the mental image of him going wide eyed and retreating in response to walking in on her, despite nothing being visible to him. "It's okay. I'm done," she called out, adding as a side note, "I can't turn very easily. Could you come over here?"

She heard his bare feet padding against the thin carpet as he made his way over to her, a heather grey shirt in hand. "How does this look?" he asked, holding it in two hands for her inspection.

"Perfect," she replied, smiling at him gratefully. "Could you just slide it over my head for me?" she asked, trying to ignore the twinge of awkward shyness that washed over her as the words left her mouth.

"Uh, yeah. Of course," he said, getting his hands around the neck hole. "Um, over the towel?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'll step out of it after," she explained, bowing her head at him.

She felt delicate hands guide her head and neck into the shirt before he eased the hem down to the tops of her thighs. "There you go," he stated, taking a step back.

Scully found the armholes with ease and then offered her hands out to Mulder, silently requesting he help her stand. He took the hint and helped stabilize her as she eased herself up off the bed, a moan of pain humming behind clenched teeth as her side screamed. She pushed out her chest before concaving it, effectively doing a standing cat-cow until the towel fell to her feet, leaving her bare under Mulder's shirt. "Is that your party trick, Scully?" he teased.

"Depends on the party," she quipped, stepping back until the back of her thighs hit the bed and she could back up onto the mattress.

Mulder chuckled in response to her playful attitude and helped ease her in, tucking her in with the comforter whilst being a gentleman and ignoring the amount of leg that had been on display. "So what time do I need to wake you up?" he asked.

"What?" she replied quizzically.

"For your concussion," he replied, pointing to her head.

"Oh, that's okay, Mulder. I set the alarm clock already," she reassured.

"You mean the alarm clock you slept through this morning when you _didn't _have a concussion?" he asked pointedly.

"I'll be fine, Mulder," she yawned, wincing at the pain it caused her ribs to do so.

When her eyes opened again she saw him looking down at her in concern. "Unless you're not."

She wanted to say that he'd had a stressful day. That she'd heard him say just a few hours ago that he was exhausted. But his puppy dog eyes were getting to her and she knew letting him stay with her would help absolve him of his self-anointed guilt. "Okay," she relented, biting back a smile as she watched his grow.

He walked around to the other side of the bed and started getting in, stopped only by her look of surprise. "Oh-I just thought- is this okay?" he stammered, half on and half off of the mattress.

"Yeah, uh, yeah. That's fine. Less hassle for you," she replied. She hadn't expected it, it didn't make her uncomfortable, she was just shocked by the unusual sight of Mulder comfortably climbing into bed next to her.

He continued getting into the bed while she tried to find a good angle to sleep in. Scully knew that rib injuries usually felt worse lying down than they did while standing and that just seemed cruel. She also knew a lot of patients found it more comfortable to sleep sitting up, but there was no way in hell she'd be doing that.

"Can you take anything for it?" he asked, looking down at the hand nearest to him that was currently rubbing her side in a soothing motion.

She looked over at him and tried to avoid the temptation to drink in the sight of his body laying next to hers. Instead, she focused on his eyes. "I could for the ribs, but I can't because of the concussion. So I just have to suffer," she joked.

It didn't land, and instead he frowned at her. "I'm sorry-" he began.

She lifted up her hand to silence him and gave him a stern look. "Don't. I already had to hear Thompson apologize to me for hours on end today. You didn't do anything wrong."

If she wasn't injured, she was certain he would have argued, but thankfully he dropped the subject. "Can I see?" he asked.

Scully crossed her arm over her chest, trying not to twist as she did so, and she motioned for him to lift up the shirt. She tried not to jump in surprise as his finger tips grazed her thigh, grabbing for the hem of her shirt. He found it and, with the utmost delicacy, raised the shirt to view her side. She watched his face and saw his face contort more that hers probably did when she was shot. He let the shirt bundle against her hand and the side of her breast as he leaned his weight on his other hand to look down at her.

He ran his hand over the expanse of her side with a feather-light touch. If she hadn't been looking at him, she wasn't certain she'd even have known he was really making contact. "Is there anything I can do to help?" he asked, his eyes darting from her abdomen to her eyes.

She shook her head lightly with a soft smile. "There's not much that can be done. Compression and binding is frowned upon now, and we don't have access to an ice pack."

"I could go get-"

"You _could_, but I don't want you to. We deserve to rest," she interrupted.

He nodded in concession before she saw his demeanour change. It was almost imperceptible, but she saw a thought glimmer in his eyes. Before she had a chance to ask, he was slowly leaning his head down over her side, slowly enough she was certain it was to give her an opportunity to halt his movement or push him away. She bit her bottom lip as she felt his breath hit the sensitive skin of her ribs. Just as his touch earlier had been, he ever so softly pressed his lips against her first point of impact before moving a few inches lower to press them to the second.

It wasn't the first time he'd kissed her in comfort, but it was certainly the first time he'd ever pressed his lips to her body and she felt goosebumps spread over her body like wind passing over grain. Mulder must've noticed because a small smile tugged at his lips as he pulled her shirt back down, pulling the covers back up over her.

She knew she was blushing and felt like a deer in headlights, so, in her effort to shift the attention away from her reaction to him, she lamely stated, "I've been told I'm a bed hog." There was a moment of silence as if his brain was recovering from the whiplash of her change in topic and she added, "Just so you know."

He smiled at her and shrugged. "Doesn't bother me."

"Good," she nodded before turning over and turning off her bedside lamp.

He did the same and they just laid in silence for a moment, listening to the sound of their breathing while their eyes tried to adjust to the dark. Then she felt him shift and almost jumped when she heard his voice, lower and closer to her than she expected, ask, "Wait, you never told me when to check on you."

She swallowed thickly before answering, keeping her head straight up in fear of turning and accidentally brushing his face with her own. "Every two to three hours. I think the alarm will go off in about two hours since I set it a while ago."

"See you then."

* * *

One time he'd gotten a book of paintings from an old art education professor he'd had at Oxford. It was supposed to increase his excitement for the course, but all it did was give him dry fingers and a paper cut. Only one image stood out to him. The _Flaming June _by Sir Frederic Leighton.

He hadn't remembered his fondness for the image until it manifested itself in the flesh in front of him just now, over a decade later. Scully was on her side, facing him. She was using her arm as a pillow as her legs curled upwards. Her red hair cascaded outwards and fanned onto her arm and nearby pillow. She was the perfect visage of that sleeping girl he'd admired all those years ago.

Her breathing was coming out slow and steady, she looked so comfortable that he felt bad for having to wake her. Mulder raised his hand tentatively before pushing a tendril of hair behind her ear and stroking her cheek.

She made a little noncommittal sound in the back of her throat as she nuzzled into her arm. "Scully," he whispered, not wanting to startle her out of dreamland too fast. She didn't stir, so he put his hand on her upper arm and squeezed it lightly, raising his voice as he repeated her name.

He'd barely tried, yet he felt a sense of dread settle in the bottom of his stomach. He wasn't even sure why someone with a concussion shouldn't sleep. What was he supposed to look for again? "Scully," he said with his full voice, gently squeezing her arm a few times in succession.

"Hmm?" she hummed, craning her neck upwards as her barely-open eyes looked for what woke her up. She caught sight of Mulder and a sleepy smile spread across her lips as recognition dawned on her.

He felt like a fool for getting worked up so easily and played it off with a smile and a joke. "Hey there, sleepy head."

"Is it morning?" she asked, disappointment heavy in her tone.

"No, I just need to make sure you're alive and well," he replied, brushing another unruly piece of hair out of her face.

"Oh, yeah," she exclaimed, sleep still heavy in her voice. "Are my pupils blown?" she asked, looking at him with a noticeable effort to keep her eyes wide.

He looked from blue eye to blue eye and saw they were fine. "You look good to me."

She smiled at his words and added, "Is my speech slurred?"

"Nope," he laughed. Even when he was supposed to be taking care of her, she was still running laps around his medical skills.

"Do I seem confused to you?" she asked.

"Who's the President of the United States right now?" he teased.

"John F. Kennedy," she stated as if it was obvious.

His brows furrowed a bit before he saw a small smile tug at her lips. "Very funny. You weren't even alive when Kennedy was in office."

"But you were, old man," she joked, laying her head back down against her arm and yawning into her hand.

He rolled his eyes and started setting the alarm for two and a half hours later. "Is an increase in sass a side effect of a concussion?" he teased. She smiled sleepily in response and he turned off the light so they could both go back to sleep.

There was a moment of silence before he heard a familiar know-it-all, mumble, "Clinton."

Yep, that's his Scully.

* * *

The alarm clock actually woke her up this time, but she didn't want him to know that.

Scully laid there with her eyes closed as she listened to him come into consciousness, making a few groggy noises before leaning over and twisting the knob of the lamp. She almost jumped when she felt his leg brush against her own, not having anticipated how close they'd gotten in sleep.

She kept trying to breathe deeply to keep up the facade of sleep, despite the painful awareness of how much it hurt her ribs to breathe like that. She waited for him to wake her, but that moment wasn't coming.

It took every fibre of her being not to move when she felt his fingertips graze across her cheek, touching her skin like it was made of china. While he started at her cheek, he slowly made his way to the bridge of her nose, then to the expange of her forehead, all the way down to her mouth. She had to resist the urge to pucker lips against the pad of his thumb as he drug it from side to side, pulling her lips with a slight, gentle tug. It was like he was kinesthetically mapping her face, making a 3-D mold in his mind out of his memory and touch alone.

She felt him take away his hand and ease up on his elbow, dipping the mattress down with his redistributed weight. There was a moment there where she was sure he was going to bend over and kiss her. A reenactment of the earlier display of affection, only this time with her lips instead of her wounds. She'd never felt like a fairy tale princess more than she did in this moment and she felt like she could hear the sound of her heart beating in her ears.

"Scully," his voice cut through the silence in a soft whisper.

She moved a little, hoping she could play off a gradual waking up rather than just letting her eyes shoot open. He reached out and tapped the tip of her nose a few times before he repeated himself a little louder. "Scully."

She blinked in exaggeration a few times, as if her eyes were adjusting to the light before looking up at him. "Hey," she greeted.

His eyes were a little squinted from his own sleepiness, his hair was mussed from his pillow, and as soon as she spoke, a boyish smile quirked his lips up. She saw him wear Armani suits everyday, but he'd never looked as handsome as he did right now. She wanted nothing more than to snuggle closer to him and burrow her body against his, but, instead, she lazily extended her fingers out to him in a silent request for his hand.

He slipped his fingers in hers and they laid there a moment, just enjoying looking at each other in this intimate setting. "Are my eyes okay?" she whispered, her breath tickling the skin of their joined hands.

"They're perfect," he murmured in response, being very thorough in his examination. He kissed the back of her hand before requesting, "Tell me a secret, so I can check for slurring and confusion."

"You need a secret for that?" she asked, letting out a breathy laugh.

"Doctor's orders," he teased. They were both speaking in hushed tones, as if they were afraid of disturbing the comfortable ambiance they'd created.

For a split second, undoubtedly influenced by the warmth of him next to her and the smell of his cologne on the sheets, she considered telling him her biggest secret. "_I love you." _

But she wasn't ready to face the consequences of that quite yet. She just wanted him to continue laying there, staring at her like she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen and making her feel like he believed that to be true.

"Sometimes I wanted to call you after I got out of the hospital… after I was taken, but I didn't want to seem clingy. So, instead-" she felt her cheeks redden as her subconscious rebelled against her sleepy honesty, "I, um, I watched that _Superstars of the Super Bowl_ tape you gave me. I did that three times."

She felt his hand squeeze hers as she watched a melancholy smile tug his lips. "Scully," he murmured with a hint of sadness.

"It made me feel closer to you," she admitted, rubbing circles on the back of his hand with her thumb, feeling how much rougher his skin was compared to hers. "But I think it was the cheesiest thing I've ever watched."

He let out an honest chuckle before turning over a bit, not letting go of her hand, so he could press a few buttons on the alarm and flick off the light. In the darkness, she felt him roll back over and snuggle closer to her, throwing his arm around her shoulders and drawing her flush to him. Her head was under his chin, their hands under hers, and he asked, "Does this hurt?"

Unsurprisingly, her ribs had been the last thing on her mind at this moment. "No, not at all," she whispered into his neck.

She felt him rubbing small circles against her shoulder blades. "I-," he started, pausing to find his words and she realized he'd turned off the light because honesty sometimes came easier in the dark. "I wish you had felt comfortable enough to call me. I think it would be impossible for you to be clingy with how desperate I was to know you were okay. But… I'm glad I could have provided some comfort for you. Even if it came under the guise of the Patriots," he explained.

She kissed his hand and smiled in the dark at his words. "I was rooting for the Packers," she joked.

Mulder made a sound of amused disgust before chuckling. She squeezed his hand and murmured, "But seriously, Mulder. Thank you."

She felt him press his face against the crown of her head, inhaling the smell of her hair while littering kisses there. She was certain she heard him whisper, "Always," before she started succumbing to sleep.

* * *

When the final alarm rang, Mulder had expected to wake up with her in his arms, but instead he found her lying stiff as a board on the other side of the bed, holding her side with a look of discomfort contorting her face.

"Hey," he croaked, trying to rub the sleep from his eyes as he sat up.

One eye peeked open and looked at him. "Hey," she replied with some strain in her voice.

"What's going on?" he asked, scooting closer to her without trying to jostle her.

"I had a small coughing fit a few minutes ago, and it aggravated my side. It's normal for injuries like this to feel worse the next day, but I feel like I just went head to head with Mike Tyson," she explained.

He faked examining her, earning a sideways glance and a cocked eyebrow. "Nope. Both ears are still there."

She chuckled, but her mirth quickly became a grimace. "Oww, don't make me laugh," she whined, rubbing her side tentatively. "What time is it?" she asked.

He glanced over to the glowing red numbers of the RCA clock and turned back. "7:02."

"Are we still flying out at 9:30?" she asked, turning her head towards him. From her voice, he wasn't sure if she wanted the answer to be yes or no, despite having wanted to go home since they got here.

He got up and walked over to the window, checking to see if last night's storm passed over. The world outside looked cold and grey, like an old black and white photo come to life. There was a thin layer of snow clinging to the dingy motel siding, the cars outside, and the pavement of the parking lot; but someone's footprints revealed the black tar underneath with distinguished clarity, and he knew it wasn't as bad as the reports had warned.

"Looks like we're still on," he replied, turning around and seeing she was now sitting on the edge of the bed. Scully's head was down, her arms still around her like a human cast, and her feet dangled a few inches from the floor. "Is there anything I can do to help? I can go get a plastic bag and gather up some snow from outside. I think MacGyver would consider that a suitable ice pack."

She lifted her head and he was happy to see he could at least make her smile through the pain. "As tempting as that sounds, no thank you, but could you grab my medical bag from the table over there?"

Mulder followed where her finger was pointing and grabbed her bag of tricks, walking the few few feet between them to hand it to her. He'd seen her pull it out multiple times in the past, usually to soothe his own injuries, but he'd never actually seen it this closely without being in pain. "Whatcha doin'?"

She started trifling through it, clearly looking for something in particular. "I think having to sit in a cramped airplane seat for two hours might be the death of me, so I'm going to take some of the good stuff so I won't have to suffer."

"Oooh," he cooed like a child witnessing something naughty. "Scully's doing drugs."

She rolled her eyes at his antics and measured out her dose. "I'm giving myself a bit more than I usually would. This might knock me out a little, so you might have to guide me through security and all that. Is that okay?" she asked, looking up at him.

"Of course," he replied immediately with a nod. "I hope it helps."

"Me too," she replied before taking the painkiller.

Truth be told, he'd never seen Scully under the influence of anything stronger than an Advil, so he was excited to see what he had in store.

* * *

Scully wasn't sure if she'd ever felt so good in her entire life. She felt like she was wading through clouds of fluff. Her body hummed like the static of a TV and she kept running her hands over her arms and chest to feel if they were vibrating with her. She paused when she got to her chest, feeling muscle turn to mounds of fat. She squeezed them gently to test how they felt in her hands and she smiled at how warm and heavy they felt through the front of her shirt.

"Scully, stop touching your chest," she heard a distant voice call out to her before feeling two warm handcuffs encircle her wrists and pull her hands away.

She looked up lazily and saw Mulder was holding her hands and looking down at her. "I have boobs," she whispered, confessing her discovery to him. Her gaze fell from his face to the large expanse of his chest and she frowned in sympathy, raising her hands to the best of her ability so she could rest her palms on the flat surface in front of her. "You don't," she choked, feeling suddenly overwhelmed at his loss.

"It's okay. It's okay, Scully. Please don't cry," she heard him whisper in a quick subdued voice. His hands let go of hers and she felt him wipe wetness across her cheek. The sensation was so strange that she stood there for a moment, her brain trying to process why there was water on her face, but he started talking again before she could figure it out.

"Are you listening to me? Okay, just think about good things right now. I just need to check us in," he explained.

She didn't really understand what he meant by 'check in'? She'd rather check him out. Her play on words caused a laugh of amusement to leave her lips and it made Mulder smile too. "Good, just like that," he said before turning around. She wondered if he smiled because he could hear her thoughts too. She looked down and thought '_His butt looks perfect for my hands_," and she looked up to see if he heard.

But he was talking with some guy who was wearing too much blue. _Maybe he was a mailman? _She watched as Mulder turned around and gestured to her. The mailman said something to Mulder and Mulder turned around and hugged Scully. She smiled and wrapped her arms around him, nuzzling her face into his neck. His hands suddenly were all over her, gently grabbing her sides and her hips. The sensation of his hands on her made her whole body feel tingly and happy. Her face felt tight and she realized it was from smiling so hard.

Mulder pulled back and she noticed her wallet was in his hands. She put her hands on her hips and realized he'd gotten it out of her coat pocket. "You're like Oliver Twist," she exclaimed in awe.

The mailman looked at her like she said something confusing, but Mulder must've whispered the joke to him because he nodded in understanding and took her wallet from Mulder, looking at her ID.

She looked back down at Mulder's butt and she was in awe of how much his pants had to raise to accommodate it. She stumbled forward a bit and put her hand on the back of his thigh so she could run her hand up and feel how his pants bubbled up.

Her hand must've been hot because he jumped and whirled around. "Scully, just one second," he begged with wide eyes before turning back around.

He exchanged a few more words with the man until he handed Mulder papers and said, "You're all set to fly."

Mulder thanked him, handing him their bags, before turning around and grabbing Scully's arm. "Let's go find our gate," he said, rubbing his other hand up and down her back.

She turned to look up at him again. She just liked seeing his floofy brown hair and his face. She wanted to nuzzle her face against his because she felt like it would smell good like him, and she bet those little pricklies on his face would scratch against her skin and feel good. He looked down and she caught his eyes, which were so pretty, she wanted to cry again. "Do you need to go to the bathroom again, Scully?" he asked softly, his voice sounding rumbly and smooth.

"No. I just wanna look at you," she explained, shaking her head.

"You'll trip," he teased, moving the hand on her back to her other arm as if anticipating just that.

"When I look at you, it makes my whole body happy," she told him happily, trying to find the right words to describe the unexplainable things she felt.

"You make me happy too, Scully," he replied, steering them towards a door.

"I wanna see you all the time," she explained.

"If you take my hand and follow me, I promise you can look at me for two hours, interrupted," he promised, trying to lead her down a hallway.

She took his hand eagerly with a smile, that was too good an offer to resist.

* * *

If it had been anyone else, Mulder might have been a little creeped out by the intense, prolonged staring. But since it was Scully, he felt flattered. It was an added bonus that her staring at him meant he could stare back at her.

He felt a little exhausted from the effort it took to get her to her seat, but now that the plane was in the air and she was amused by the features of his face, he felt much calmer. Mulder watched as she raised one of her hands and pressed it against his face with what he presumed to be an attempt at gentle grace. "Whatcha doin, Scully?" he asked, his lips slightly inhibited by her hand.

Her fingers were roaming every which way, as if she wanted to feel every surface of his face. "I wanted to try," she explained.

"Try what?" he prodded.

"Try what you did." She was talking at full volume despite him trying multiple times to get her to lower her voice. He was just hoping the undercurrent whirring noises of the plane were enough white noise to prevent her from bothering the other customers.

He wasn't sure what she meant, and she either saw the confusion on his face or felt it with her fingers. "I felt you touching me when you thought I was sleeping," she stated plainly.

Mulder lurched in shock at her words and glanced around to see a middle-aged woman had turned in her seat, a few rows up from them, to glare at him. He turned to Scully with his hands slightly raised. "N-no, that's not true," he stammered.

She giggled, clearly amused by his reaction, and said, "Yeah you did, I felt you stroking my face."

He looked back over and saw the woman simply pursed her lips before turning back around. "Scully, could we try playing that quiet game I told you about?"

"Wait, I thought of a better secret to tell you!" she exclaimed.

"Okay, I'd love to hear it, Scully," he pacified. "But how about you whisper it to me?" he tried again.

A beaming, close lipped smile spread on her face and she nodded eagerly, motioning for him to get closer. He turned his head so she could cup her hands around his ear. She was leaning close to him and he could feel her front pressing flush against his side. She was struggling to find her words, probably forgetting what she was going to say in the first place, so he had to sit there for a moment and listen to the sounds of her breathing and small giggles right next to his ear. It made goosebumps erupt on his body from the sensory overload and it made him want to shudder, but he didn't want her to think he was trying to shuck her off.

"I love you," she whispered, her lips brushing against the rim of his ear as she did so, the warmth of her breath filling the shell of his ear.

He turned his head immediately, waiting to see her erupt into a burst of giggles at her prank, but instead the Scully he saw was wide-eyed and earnest. "What?" he whispered under his breath.

"I love you," she repeated, leaning her head against her seat. Watching her say it evoked about the same response as hearing her say it and he felt his heart start beating in his chest.

He wiped his palms against the denim of his jeans as he tried to ground himself. "Wow, those sure are some strong drugs" he joked.

He turned back and saw she was still looking at him with an intense focus. If it weren't for the glassy haze over her eyes or the comedic way she was pouting out her lip, he would have thought his Scully was back.

"Why is it easier to believe in aliens than in my feelings?" she mumbled, clumsily grabbing for his hand.

He gave it to her and held it tightly. "I love you too," he admitted. He figured she wouldn't remember any of this after sleeping it off, and even if she did, she could at least take comfort in knowing he admitted it too.

Hell, even if she was embarrassed after all this, just getting to see the smile that graced her face after he said it was something he'd always cherish.


End file.
